The Runaway Pact
by AlessNox
Summary: Forced to chose between Sherlock Holmes and his wife Mary, John does the only thing he can. He goes to his sister and evokes a childhood pact to have her hide him. But how long can John and Harry hide when Sherlock Holmes is hunting them, and he's not alone. John doesn't know it, but someone has put out a contract for his life. STARCROSSED IV - The conclusion to the Moving epic.
1. A warrior has no honor in his country

Chapter 1 – A warrior has no honor in his own country

"Hurry, He's getting away!" Sherlock yelled as he ran beneath the bridge toward the maze of shipping containers. Sherlock always outpaced John in chases like this. His long legs and his unfailing sense of direction made him difficult to keep up with. A half dozen of Lestrade's policemen outran John following Sherlock into the fenced-in yard. They rushed into the poorly-lit area flashlights bouncing as they ran.

John slowed his steps until he stood alone in the dark tunnel-like entrance. He wasn't going to solve this by running after every sound or movement. He had to use his brain. The place was fenced-in. Likely Lestrade's police cars had blocked the other exit. If it were him, he would try to double back and escape the way he came. That meant this tunnel. This entrance would be where the criminal would most likely try to escape. John moved to the side of the bridge, hid behind a column and waited.

Sooner than he expected, he heard the tip, tip, tip, sound of footsteps running through the puddles of water that had gathered under the bridge. He was coming. John leaped out as he passed, downing the man and pulling his hands behind his back.

He was a wide man, wider than John and more muscled, but John had a knee in his back and he used his belt to tie the man's wrists together as he held him cheek down on the pavement. He pulled out his phone and texted Sherlock that he had him under the bridge.

"Hey, you ain't no cop!" He said. "Let me go. Who are you anyway?"

"I'm just a concerned citizen." John said, "Who wants to get people like you off of the streets."

"Why you want to do that? " He asked, "I got friends. I got money. You let me go and I'll set you up. Make you comfortable. Just let me go."

"I'm sorry. I'm just not interested in a promise from a criminal."

"Listen. You let me go right now, or when I get out, I will hunt you down and kill you. What do you say about that?"

"I say that I liked your first offer better, but it doesn't matter because, I'm not going to let you go."

Just then Sherlock and a pair of officers approached through the tunnel as Lestrade drove up in his car.

"Is this him?" Lestrade said.

"Yes. The assailant in the triple robbery." Sherlock noted, "Good Job John."

"Yes excellent work Dr. Watson." Lestrade commented, "You took him down all by yourself? Very good."

"Doctor Watson... Doctor John Watson. I'll remember that name." The criminal said as they pulled him to his feet. "You're a dead man Dr. John Watson. A dead man!"

"Get him out of here." Lestrade said patting John on the shoulder. He left with a host of police cars following in his wake.

John bent over hands on knees and breathed heavily. "Well that was a bit of work." He said smiling.

"Yes, excellent job John." Sherlock said, "To think of him doubling back. I considered it of course. Told some of Lestrade's men to wait at the corner, but you got him first. Good for you."

"Oh, Glad you appreciated the thinking. There's a whole lot of aching to be appreciated too." John said.

"You could come back home and have a hot bath if that would relax you." Sherlock said seductively.

"I can't." John said, "I have work tomorrow. I've got to get home."

"John, when are you going to admit that your marriage is Mary is a sham? You know the truth. Come back and live with me." Sherlock implored.

"I...I.. now is not the time." John said.

"Then when?" Sherlock asked, his eyes staring down at John, pinning him with his gaze. Those eyes that always filled him with such emotion. He tore himself away and rushed off flagging down the first taxi that he saw pass.

He opened the door to his flat. Mary walked out from the bedroom in a lavender dressing gown. She had obviously been waiting. "Hello John. I wasn't sure if you were coming home." Mary said.

"You wouldn't guess what I was doing." John started excitedly. "The man responsible for the triple robbery. We caught him. We were in this shipping yard...

"Was Sherlock there?"

"Of course Sherlock was there." John said, "I tackled the man and single-handedly brought him down."

"Did you go back to Sherlock's afterwards?" Mary asked.

"Sorry?" John said.

"Because I notice that you aren't wearing your belt."

John dropped his hands and looked at her with a completely exhausted expression. "Not you too. I've just been wrestling with a robber under a bridge and all that you're concerned with is whether I went to Sherlock's afterward. I tied his hands with my belt. I'm sure I can call Lestrade and get it back tomorrow."

"You know that that's not what I'm asking about." Mary said.

John threw his coat on the couch and walked toward the hallway, "I can't talk about this now. I'm going to bed."

"We have to talk about this." Mary said.

"Tomorrow."John replied, "After work tomorrow." and he closed the bedroom door.

"Just remember" John said to the patient, "Take these every morning."

"So will I come back next week for the results?" The patient asked clutching the pills to his chest.

"No. This wing of the hospital is being remodeled, the clinic will be closed for two weeks, but you can call the nurses station for your results in two days or so."

"Thank you Doctor Watson." He said smiling and left the office.

"Any more?" John asked.

"No that's it." Alice said.

"Good. Make sure that the file drawers are locked before you leave. They may need to move things and we want the records to remain secure."

"Yes Doctor." Alice said.

"Then...I guess I'm off."

"Have a nice two weeks vacation Doctor." Alice smiled and turned away beginning to shut down her computer.

John went into his office and gathered his things. He put on his coat and looked around one more time before locking it. Downstairs he bought a cup of tea and a magazine, then he walked out of the hospital around the corner and down into the underground. He sat on his favorite bench and pretended to read the magazine as he thought.

So this is it. Time to decide. Should I tell Sherlock to ease off and make up with Mary, or should I leave her and move back in with Sherlock. Both choices are terrible. But a choice must be made. I can't stand it anymore. There are cracks in my heart, cracks in theirs as well. I can't stand to watch them in pain. Not people that I love. It hurts me whenever Sherlock looks at me with those eyes. Longing, and hurt. Too much hurt. But Mary is no better. It can't go on. Nothing had been the same since last Christmas. Both Sherlock and Mary have been nothing but open wounds.

John turned the pages of the magazine without seeing them. He looked up as the train entered the station and ignored it.

Mary is my wife. When Sherlock had died...gone, Mary was the person who pieced me back together. Together we built a new John, a whole John, a stable John. Mary is truly one of the sweetest and kindest people that I have ever known. To hurt her would be unthinkable.

Yet Sherlock, Oh God Sherlock! How can I ever deny him anything. He is the most amazing man that I have ever met, that I am ever likely to meet. He is ...the most fascinating man in the world. His brain, his body, everything about him is exciting. Living with him, has given me the best and the worst experiences of my life. He makes me feel alive. Life without Sherlock is impossible.

So, do I chose the unthinkable or the impossible?

John looked up and watched a second train arrive. He sipped his tea. It was cold.

"What will I say? I'm sorry, but I've decided that I don't want to be with you anymore. I ..." His throat clenched. He dropped the newspaper and lifted his hand to his face. He heard rather than saw the second train pass him by.

It was too much, he couldn't do any of this. He couldn't see Sherlock. He couldn't go home. There was only one place left to go. Only one person that he could fall back on. John tossed the magazine and the tea in the trash can and walked back up the steps out of the underground.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

The sound of loud voices and music filtered through the door.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Footsteps and chatter and then the door opened to reveal a woman: Big shouldered, red hair (dyed), nose ring, pierced lip, and a shocked expression.

"Hello Harry" John said.

"Well, if it isn't my brother John. What brings you to my doorstep this time of night?" She asked.

John stood up straight almost as if he was at attention and licked his lips nervously before he said. "I've come to evoke the runaway pact."


	2. Hanging with Harry

Chapter 2 – Hanging with Harry

John sat nursing a bottle of beer at a quiet table, or as close to a quiet table as was possible in the bar where Harry had taken them. The room was dark except for the red and purple glare from neon beer signs and the glow of television screens.

Harry sat across from him with her friend Jazz. A young woman with hair that changed color from red to blue to black. She smiled at him. "So this is your brother. Well, he don't look so bad." Jazz said looking John up and down.

"Back off Jazz, he's an awful stick in the mud." Harry commented taking another swig of beer. "Besides that, he's gay."

"I am not gay."

"Yes you are." Harry said offhandedly, "I can't believe it. YOU evoking the runaway pact. I guess that the honeymoon is over."

"Wait a sec." Jazz asked, "Can somebody explain to me this 'runaway pact' thing."

Harry laughed, "It was something we came up with as kids. Mom and Dad were in this bad place, and it wasn't fun being at home, so Johnny here got the idea to move into this nearby building that was abandoned and live there, but he was afraid that our parents would find him, so he made me agree to this runaway pact."

"Don't act like it's all my idea. You were part of this too." John said.

"I'm not saying anything bad about you. Hell, you are so sensitive!" Harry cried, "Well, we agreed that when the pact was evoked the other would swear to help the runaway in whatever way was necessary without giving away his or her location to the person or persons that he or she was running from."

"So did you ever use this pact Harry?" Jazz asked.

"You bet she did." John replied, "Lots of times, but this is only the second time I've ever evoked it. So Harry. Will you do it? Will you help me?"

Harry looked at her brother and fiddled with the bead on her pierced lip, Then she smiled and took another swig of beer. "Of course I'll help you brother, but on one condition."

"What's that?" John said.

"Tell me who you are running from and why?"

John looked down and then rubbed the back of his close shaved hair with one hand. "I'm in a sort of a situation, a romantic situation, and I need to get away to think about it."

"Romantic?" Jazz asked, "Didn't you just get married or something? Harry was saying."

"It's because he married a girl, but he's gay." Harry said.

"I am NOT gay!" John insisted.

"Well a little bird told me that they saw John Watson kissing another bloke under a bridge. It took me exactly one guess to figure out who it was." Harry laughed. "So love triangle is it? This is so rich!" She laughed again.

John looked away and back at her, "It's not funny."

"Isn't it?" She said, "The only reason that you're having trouble with your wife is because of another man. I said it a million times. You are gay."

"I am NOT gay." John yelled and then looked around nervously as others started to stare.

"Did you kiss Sherlock, or didn't you?" Harry asked pointedly.

"Well... although I am not gay," John began, "I may be bisexual."

Harry laughed even harder, "Bisexuals are a myth. It's just gay guys who are too repressed to admit it."

"That's not true." John said

"That is so true, and you are so gay." Harry turned to Jazz, "Look at that shirt. See how he wears it loose. Lookin' like he just threw on something he had lying around the house and didn't have time to button it up. I've seen him spend hours in front of the mirror trying to make himself look casual. He is such a liar. He acts like he doesn't care how he looks, but he's always getting' those striped shirts and the country doctor jackets. Staring at himself while adjusting his tie." Harry moved her hand back and forth under her throat, "You wouldn't know it to look at him, but he is vain, so yes John, you are gay."

"Well this argument is getting old. So let me tell you the problem. This is going to be harder than just letting me crash in your flat." John said.

"And why is that?" Harry asked.

"Because they'll probably come looking for me, and nobody is as good at finding things as Sherlock Holmes."

"Blimey!" Harry yelled.

Jazz laughed so hard that she spit out some of her drink, "I didn't think anyone ever really used 'blimey' for real."

"I meant to say 'Bloody Hell!' " Harry replied.

"Language!" John commented.

Harry stood up so straight that she almost rose out of her chair. "So you're still trying to lecture me? My perfect brother who is two timing his beautiful new bride with his old roommate?"

"I would have expected a little sympathy from my own sister."

"Like the sympathy you gave me when Clara and I broke up? I don't think you want to bring that up now do you?"

"So will you help me, or not?" John asked.

Harry put down her drink and put her finger to her forehead in a gesture very like one John would sometimes make. "I told you I would. But this is going to require help. We need to find someone who is clever, has resources, and is good at disguising men. That means we need to see..."

"Brandywine!" Harry and Jazz said together.

"What's Brandywine?" John asked.


	3. Brandywine

Chapter 3 – Brandywine

John stood, hands in pockets, in an unimpressive street in front of a nondescript door set apart from its neighbors by a purple light. Harry and Jazz led the way in and he followed. The entry was dark, but it opened out into a cabaret-like area set with round candle-lit tables surrounding a stage.

On the stage, a tall woman with pink hair and a red dress was singing a love song. John looked again. Her hips were a bit wrong to be a woman. Suddenly he understood what Harry and Jazz had been joking about all of the way here, about how he would see a 'whole new side' of himself.

They looked around for a quiet table in the back only to find most of them already taken. Most by single men, but some by couples. John looked back at one couples wondering if they were really a man and a woman as he had first thought, before Harry chided him for staring and pulled him to a table closer to the stage.

John sat and looked down at its scarf-covered surface. He picked up a purple matchbook that said Brandywine. This was the sort of place where they still printed matchbooks even though smoking indoors was now against the law. John wondered what people used them for. Perhaps to burn evidence.

Suddenly John felt eyes watching him and he looked up to see a tall woman (man?) towering over him. She had black hair pilled up in a bouffant hair-do and a was wearing a long blue sequined dress. Her make up covered face made her look dramatic and fairly beautiful.

"Brandywine!" Harry said reaching out a hand to her which she took in both of hers smiling.

"Harry darling, and Jazz. So good to see you again so soon. And who is this incredibly handsome young man?"

"I'm not that young. I'm certainly no younger than you," John said.

"Oh I like him," Brandywine said shaking her hips.

"This is my brother, John Watson. John, this is Brandywine." Harry introduced them.

"Pleased to meet you," John said reaching out to shake her hand.

She took his hand, but instead of shaking it, she stepped closer holding it gently in hers. Then she released his hand, and she sat down at the table beside him. John jumped up to adjust her chair, and she beamed.

"I must say Harry, you have the most charming brother. Why did you never bring him before?"

"Well, My brother and I don't often socialize together," Harry said, "You see..."

"Harry!" John interrupted knowing what she was about to say.

"I was just going to say that we needed her help," Harry said kicking him below the table.

Brandywine looked back and forth between the two of them. "My help? How can I help you?"

"Well," Harry said leaning forward and lowering her voice, " he wants to get away for a while, but he will very likely be followed. He needs to not be recognized, you understand?"

Brandywine flashed them an enigmatic smile and then batted her large lashes at John. Just then the stage lights dimmed and when they came up again, there was a white-faced figure covered by a large billowy black hooded robe. The face was white and as perfectly formed as a mask. She stood still for a second, sure that all eyes in the room were on her before she dropped the robe to reveal a strapless white floor length gown. John had to look twice to make sure than she was a man. But the shoulders were a bit too straight and was that a shadow or chest hair?

"The art of the female impersonator is the art of illusion," Brandywine said leaning over to whisper in John's ear. "You may think that the best female impersonators are those that look most like women, but you would be wrong. The best impersonators always have a tell-tell hint that makes you suspect that she is not. You wonder 'is she or isn't she?' It is the ambiguity that makes her so alluring. That makes her not just male or female, but a goddess. It's a powerful feeling. Once you've tried it, it's hard to give up.

"I don't want to be..." John began but Brandywine hushed him with a finger on his lips as she turned to Harry.

"I can't do anything without interviewing him first." She raised a hand and a waiter was there instantly. "Give these fine, young ladies a drink on me will you Rae? I'm going to take John here to my office."

Brandywine rose from her chair and reached out her hand. John took it and she led him out of the room and behind the stage. More than one set of eyes followed them as they passed.

John was distracted when a man in a silver dress came out of a dressing room and asked another man if he had seen his razor. Then John turned to see Brandywine standing before an open door.

John didn't know exactly what he was expecting. A pink upholstered couch and lace curtains perhaps, but not the plain rectangular business office with the wooden desk and the green fake leather seated chair. She closed the door.

"Take a seat John," she said and sat behind the desk.

John looked around to see the walls covered with framed posters of her glory days as a headliner and pictures of Brandywine standing next to different dignitaries. Looking at the dates on the posters, John realized that he had been wrong about her age, she was quite a bit older than he.

"So John," she began, "you need to get away. Why?"

John puckered his lips and took a breath, "I have a wife, and a friend who are after me to ...make a decision, and I can't think clearly when either of them are around. I need some time away to think things through. It's confusing. I don't know if you understand."

"Oh, I think that I do understand you, John. Your problem is not as uncommon as you might think. There are many people out there who have problems with family who don't understand them. Sometimes they even send people after them, to find them, even to hurt them. The world is not kind to people who are different."

"I'm not gay," John said.

"Did I say that you were?" Brandywine countered. "Pardon me. I don't mean to seem nosy, but helping people is not without risk, and I won't do it without a good reason."

"So, is my reason good enough?" John asked his eyes questioning.

Brandywine looked into John's earnest eyes and then smiled. "Oh for you honey, I'd face them off myself. Yes, I'll help you. I could sense your desperation the moment you sat in that chair. I can help you get away, but I want you to consider this. The people who really love you will accept your decisions whatever they are. Maybe not immediately. But eventually, they will."

Brandywine stood and walked around the desk to the door. John jumped ahead to open the door for her and she smiled. Before she walked through however she leaned over and whispered into his ear. "Oh and John, about you not being gay. I have a confession to make. I'm not either." Brandywine then adjusted her wig and strode out of the room.


	4. A new case for Sherlock

Chapter 4 – A new case for Sherlock

Sherlock glanced out of the window at 221B Baker street and then rolled his eyes. He listened as the outer door opened. He heard a light, rapid step coming up the stairs, and then a sharp rap on the door.

"Come in Mrs Watson," Sherlock said waltzing over to the mantle to observe his skull before turning to face her. Sherlock looked her up and down. "Please Mrs. Watson have a seat. I see that you were in a bit of a rush this morning."

Mary Watson walked across the room and sat in John's chair. Sherlock moved to his own feeling a bit uncomfortable as he always did whenever someone sat in John's place.

"You obviously are quite agitated. You got up this morning and something caused you to rush over here before you even had time for your morning coffee."

"You are quite correct Mr. Holmes," Mary said clutching her purse as she sat up in her chair, " although I don't know how you know it."

Sherlock smiled and then leaned back in his chair steepling his hands. "Then let me explain," he began, " I know that you rushed here in some haste because although you are wearing black pumps on both of your feet, they are obviously not from the same pair. You must have been in quite a rush to make such a mistake.

"I can tell that you had no coffee from your collar. When I had the good fortune to stay over at your house, I noticed your routine. Every evening, John would program the coffee maker for you and fill it with water so that it would be ready when you awoke. You would dress somewhat haphazardly, sit down at the table and have a cup of coffee, then stand before the mirror and adjust your cuffs and collar. Today your cuffs and collar are not turned down, therefore you did not have your coffee, therefore John did not come home last night."

"Yes," Mary said, "Have you seen him? Has he been here?"

"No." Sherlock said, "John has quite particular habits with regard to you. If he were here, he would surely have come down by now, but I haven't seen him since he apprehended that criminal two days ago. The fact that you haven't either is a bit worrying, but there is more. What do you have in your purse?"

Mary was clutching the purse tightly in both hands. She opened the clasp and pulled out an envelope. She gave it to Sherlock. "I found this this morning. Someone slid it under my door."

Sherlock took the envelope. He examined it from one end to another and sniffed it.  
The paper is domestic. The handwriting is John's and the pen is one that he owns, I recognize the ink. There is a scent...strange. It's not John's scent. It's a woman's scent, but there is something odd about it. Hmm. This is interesting. Quite interesting."

"Do you think that he could have been kidnapped?" Mary asked, "I don't believe so. I think that John has just gone walkabout but I couldn't reach him on his phone. It's the note that bothers me. If John wanted to leave me a note. Why not come in the apartment and do it? Why put it under the door? It's not like him. None of this is like him."

Sherlock opened the letter and read it. It was in John's hand. It said...

_Mary,_

_Please forgive me for not coming home, and not taking you to the medical conference like we had planned, but I need some time alone. I'm writing this note because I don' t want you to worry._

_I realized that it wasn't fair to either of you to go on like we have been. I'm hoping that in time, I will be able to explain to you what I'm feeling, but now I haven't figured it out myself. I just need some time. Please don't come after me. Keep the home fires burning._

_Love you,_

_John_

Sherlock folded the letter and put it back into the envelope.

"This is definitely his hand," Sherlock said. "The message seems clear enough. Also it does not include the signals we have agreed upon for forced abduction." Sherlock laid the envelope on the mantle and began to pace.

"Yes, the message seemed genuine to me also, and it doesn't contain our codewords for trouble," Mary said.

Sherlock was standing now with his hands palm to palm. He turned to her. "You have codewords?"

"Of course. John was a military man. He liked to be prepared for emergencies. "Keep the home fires burning" means stay at home, don't come after me. Plus he doesn't call me 'his little pigeon'." Mary said.

Does he normally call you that?" Sherlock asked furrowing his brow.

"No, he knows I hate pigeons, that's why he would only call me that if he wrote the note under duress. If the letter is longer than twenty five words, it must end with either love you or my little pigeon."

"Interesting." Sherlock said.

"What's your code?" Mary asked.

"A code is most effective when it is private," Sherlock said. "needless to say this note fits my authenticity checks at well. So tell me. What do you think we should do?"

"Go after him," Mary said.

"But he said not to."

"I know. But you are planning to go after him anyway aren't you?" Mary asked.

"Of course," Sherlock said nodding. "But I don't understand. John doesn't see me everyday as he does you. I did not know of John's flight. Why tell me when you know that I will try to find him before you do?"

"That is exactly why I have come. I've come as a client," Mary said, "Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I would like to employ you to find my husband, and bring him back home."


	5. A makeover fit for a queen

Chapter 5 - A makeover fit for a queen

"What do you think Tam, the brunette or the ginger. I'm leaning toward the ginger," said a man in a silver sequined dress and high heeled shoes.

"Are you out of your mind?". Tam shrieked, "he's a natural blond, and quite a bombshell he'll make with those delicate features of his, but he's going to need a shave."

In a back room at Brandywine's nightclub, John sat in a chair before a lighted mirror as two men in dresses fussed over him. Harry and Jazz sat in the corner of the room rolling with laughter as they watched.

Tam lifted John's chin. "You should moisturize you know," he said as he smeared shaving cream across John's face. Harry whispered something to Jazz and they broke out laughing. John frowned at them through the mirror. "Now stop that will you! "Tam said. "you'll make me cut your cheek."

"I think you're right about the blond. It goes well with his complexion," Sam said holding a blond wig against John's head as Tam pulled a razor across his chin and above his lip. It had been a long time since someone had shaved him. John tried to think of it as just another trip to the barber shop. Tam wiped his face with a towel and rubbed it with his finger. "There," he said, " smooth as a baby's bottom."

Sam lifted red lipstick in front of his face. "What about this?" He asked.

"Red! Do you want him to look like a slut? No it's baby soft pink for John here. He's going to be a classy lady, not some common harlot." Tam bent over and pulled pink lipstick off of a tray. "Now pucker up, honey."

"I'm going to make a very ugly woman." John said.

"Trust us." Sam demanded. "You'll have men asking you out before we're done with you."

John chuckled, "Some men will go for anything in a skirt."

"You mean men like you, John?" Harry added from the back of the room. John turned in his seat and gave her a cold stare.

An hour later, a John-sized woman stood surrounded by admirers who smiled and whispered among themselves

"He's adorable!" Sam said clapping his hands.

John was wearing beige low-heeled shoes, stockings, a dusky pink A-line dress covered by a flower print queen's-cut jacket. A string of white pearls with matching earrings set off his cute make-up covered face surrounded by a short blond wig whose tips turned in like the best 60s models. He clutched a pink bag to his chest, but it wasn't big enough to hide behind.

"I am a genius," Tam replied.

Brandywine walked in carrying a Polaroid camera. She snapped a picture of him.

Hey," John said, "No evidence."

"It would truly be a crime if I didn't preserve this moment." she said, "You're quite attractive as both a man and a woman. Even more so because you are totally ignorant of your charms. Come with me, and I'll show you the secret way out."

As John walked down the hall, Harry came over to walk beside him. The ginger wig had ended up on her head.

"You look like Mom," John said.

"Stuff it!" Harry spat.

"What are you complaining of? I'm in drag," John quipped.

"Well I'm dressed as a man dressed in drag, so I think I beat you on that count."

"Where's Jazz?" John asked.

"She's on another mission," Harry replied as they walked around a corner into a dark corridor.

Brandywine unlocked a door and led them through it. "Go to the end of that hallway. You'll find a stairwell that exits on a different street. Wait in the doorway until some people pass. It will be harder to recognize you in a crowd."

John turned and grabbed Brandywine by the arm. "Thank You," he said.

"You're welcome," she said her voice lower and unaffected for once. Then she stepped back into character and waved to them as she passed back through the door, " Don't be a stranger Mr. Watson. A woman like me always appreciates a visit from a gentleman."

The door shut and locked behind them.


	6. Fencing with Mary

Chapter 6 - Fencing with Mary

Sherlock Holmes stared at Mary Watson. He leaned back in surprise, "A case? You want me to find John as a case?"

"That's what you do isn't it?" she remarked, "you're a detective. You find things."

"But why should I take this case?"

Mary gave a small smile and challenged him with, "I know that you will."

"No, sorry, I refuse. Good Morning. Be off with you. I've got some reading to do." Sherlock said shooing her away and then turning to fiddle with the mail speared to his mantlepiece."

"Mr Holmes, I know that you will take this case because you want to find John as much as I do."

"Don't you think that it would be more appropriate for us to let him think? To decide about his feelings like he said that he would in the letter? Don't you trust him to make the right decision?"

"No."

"So you don't respect his opinion?"

"Mr Holmes." Mary admitted, "I said something to him before he left. I wasn't very understanding. I want to talk to him, to explain some things. You talked to him too. Didn't you? He acted like it."

"I may have had one or two words to say to him, yes."

"Do you want those to be the last words that he hears from you when he decides that we are both two much trouble and leaves us?" Mary bemoaned.

"Do you really think he will?" Sherlock asked, emotions never being his strongest subject.

"I don't know what John thinks!" Mary quietly railed, "He's been acting strange for quite a while now. I thought I knew him, but I can tell that I've hit some place. Some place in his heart where he's never let me in."

"Could it be that he's thinking about me?" Sherlock smiled.

"I know that part of him." Mary said. "I've always known his feelings for you even when he didn't."

Sherlock tilted his head toward her. "What do you know?"

"That he loves you. " Mary said. "That he respects you. That he admires you sometimes, and that he thinks that you need taking care of."

"So why don't you let him take care of me? Divorce him." Sherlock contended.

"Excuse me?"

"That's my fee is you want me to take the case."

Mary shook her head, "no, I could never do that."

"Why not?" He asked.

"Because John needs me," Mary insisted. Sherlock turned his head and scoffed.

Mary rushed forward and placed a hand on Sherlock's forearm. He glared at her. "Like you need John, he needs me." Mary demanded. "Haven't you even noticed? You've never been enough for him. He's had a string of girlfriends. If you were enough to satisfy him, why did he keep looking?"

Sherlock stepped away from her touch. "I don't know why?" he said.

"I'll tell you." Mary chided. "It's because John needs affection, and you are a selfish, narcissistic, rude, insensitive jerk who tramples on the feelings of others."

"I'm not insensitive!" Sherlock replied offended.

"Will you take the case Mr Holmes?" Mary said recovering from her momentary impropriety.

"What about the fee?" Sherlock asked.

"We'll decide it later, but divorce will not be an option."

"Alright," Sherlock agreed, "I'll take the case."

"Thank You Mr. Holmes." Mary Watson replied.


	7. Deduction

Chapter 7 - Deduction

Sherlock paced back and forth in front of the fireplace at 221B Baker street. Mary Watson was sitting in John's chair which she had turned to face him. "Tell me what you are thinking," she said.

"What?" Sherlock barked stopping to look at her over his clapped hands.

"John told me that you work best when you can tell someone else what you are thinking."

"Paper," Sherlock said, "I'm thinking of paper."

"Paper, paper is sold everywhere." Mary said.

"Regular paper, yes," he began, "but this is stationary. Made specifically for writing letters. Who writes letters in this age of email and voice mail?"

Sherlock rushed over to his computer, "hand me that note will you?" he said.

Mary stared at Sherlock for a moment, then she stared at the mantle where the letter was. The mantle where Sherlock had been standing just moments before. She stood up, walked over to the mantle, picked up the note, and walked back across the room to where Sherlock sat at the computer. She handed it to him.

Sherlock lifted the note toward the light. "Ah ha!" he said.

"What is it?" Mary asked.

"A watermark. Now we are getting somewhere." He typed on the computer. "The Chamberlain paper company, " he said, "now if I can find their sales locations in London..."

Mary turned and walked slowly around the room. She looked at the skull poster and the skull on the mantle. She stared at the framed bug collection with the bat in it, and at the dagger holding down the mail. She turned toward Sherlock. "Is this why our wedding RSVP had a hole in it?" she asked.

"I've found it! Chamberlain papers are sold in twenty five locations in the London area. This particular stationary is sold in ten stores. It's not quite enough information yet, but..."

He smelled the paper again.

"I've done quite a study on perfumes, you know. I don't suppose you read my paper, it's on the website." He pointed at her. "You for example are wearing an knock-off of Chanel no. 5, but this perfume is not any of the commercially available ones. I'm pretty sure of it. It seems to have a bit of something like musk to it. If I can get to the lab, I can use the mass spectrometer."

He turned back to his computer. Then he jumped up "Musk Ambrette!" he yelled.

"What is that?" Mary asked startled.

"Musk Ambrette, a scent once very popular until it was banned for it's neurotoxic properties. That was almost 100 years ago. Not very many people could get access to such a substance. Off hand, I can think of only three. Two are chemistry supply companies. Unlikely the perfume came from there. The third is a specialty perfumery, **Ariadne's of Paris**. They make custom perfumes. And there is a shop that sells Chamberlain stationary not a block from their London store."

"So we have an area to search, but all we know is that the person who gave John the stationary went there," Mary said sitting back down in John's chair.

Sherlock paced around to stand in front of her. "We know more than that. We know that the person, woman most likely, orders her own perfume to be made. Not many people do that, so she must be fairly well to do. She is older. How else would she know to request a smell that has not been found in perfumes for decades? Scents don't last forever. So John goes to see a rich, older woman who lives nearby. Who does John know who lives in this area?" Sherlock resumed his pacing.

"She may not be that rich." Mary said, " If perfume is important to her job, she would pay extra for something exotic."

"But who needs perfume for their job?" Sherlock asked closing his eyes.

"Someone to whom image is important: a clothing designer, a brothel owner, a performer."

"Wait a second. I seem to remember something. Let me look in my index." Sherlock rushed over to his computer. "This is it, I'm sure of it."

Mary ambled over peeking over his shoulder at the computer. "Brandywine's nightclub and Caberet?" She read.

"I knew it from the 'Oud'. Oud is a perfume ingredient extracted from the hardwood of aquilara and gyrinop trees. I smelled it in that perfume, and it surprised me because it is used almost exclusively in men's cologne."

"So how does that tell you that he went here?" Mary asked.

"Because Brandywine's is a locale frequented by crossdressers."

"You mean men dressed as women?"

"Exactly. Whoever helped John is there. Perhaps the famous Brandywine herself. That's were we must go, but first. I'll have to change into something a little more conspicuous."


	8. Devil in a red dress

Chapter 8 - Devil in a red dress

Sherlock threw clothes across the room as he searched for the proper costume. Mary glanced over from time to time as he discard first one garment and then the other. "Got it!" he said and rushed off into his room.

He returned in a bit wearing a straight knee-length red shift with a brown shoulder length wig. "There," he said, "I'm ready"

"You're not going out like that are you?" Mary asked.

"What's wrong with it?"

"For one, the line on the back of your stocking isn't straight." Mary bent down behind Sherlock and carefully straightened his black lined stockings. "These heels are a bit wicked. You should have gotten something wider."

"Do you know how hard it is to get red pumps in my size?" Sherlock commented.

"Sit down and let me do your hair," Mary said.

Mary ran a brush across the wig and then adjusted his curls so that they didn't peek out from under it. She rushed off and came back with her purse. "I don't have much make up with me, but you can do with a bit of blush. I'd use my foundation but you are so pale."

"I've got makeup in the box over there," Sherlock said pointing.

Mary opened the box and exclaimed, "My! You have more than I do. Do you often play dress up?"

"Occasionally I am required to for my job," Sherlock said.

Mary raised an eyebrow and then, picking some red lipstick, she came over to fix Sherlock's face. "You have such beautiful full lips. I'm envious." She said drawing a defining line around the edge of his lips and spreading it out with her thumb, "and this powder is the wrong color, but I think that it will be okay on your neck to minimize these moles."

"Is there something wrong with my skin?" Sherlock asked dewy-eyed as a school girl.

"Hush, I'm doing your cheek line." She said before stopping with her hand on his cheek. "So high. So exotic. I was never exotic." Mary frowned. She pulled out a black pencil and began to accent Sherlock's eyes. "We're going to have to trim your eyebrows."

"No!" Sherlock demanded, "No plucking eyebrows. They don't grow back."

"Then we'll use wax. Do you have a candle?"

Mary primped and polished Sherlock and finally gave him her seal of approval. "Now stand properly! No, put one heel against the arch of the other one. That's better. Oh I forgot!"

Mary took the silver hollow-beaded necklace off of her own neck and put it on Sherlock's. She had to stand on a chair to do it and it fit like a choker on him, but it complemented his red dress perfectly.

"You wait here. I'll be back soon." Sherlock said opening the door.

"I'm going with you." Mary said rushing after him.

"But you would stand out. You'll blow my cover!"

"Mr Holmes. I'm not letting you out of my sight," Mary said putting on her coat and picking up her purse.

After an arduous train trip where Sherlock was propositioned not once, but twice, they arrived at Brandywine's.

"Are you sure this is it?" Mary asked.

"This is the address," he said, "places like this often wish to remain... inconspicuous." Sherlock turned the knob and entered.

The room was half-empty. There was a stage with a blue light shining down but no one was on it. The bartender looked up at them and then away. Mary motioned to a table in the back and sat down.

"So you think John came here?" She said, "It isn't his usual type of bar, unless there's more about him that I don't know."

"I'm not certain of anything yet. We have to gather evidence first," Sherlock answered as he picked up a matchbook and sniffed it. He placed it back down. Mary reached out and put it in her bag.

A tall woman came over. She wore a green velvet floor length gown and diamond earrings. "Hello," she said, "You're new here. My name is Brandywine and this is my place."

Sherlock reached out a hand. "I'm ..." He started to say then he stopped. He hadn't thought of an appropriate name yet.

"This is his first time out," Mary interrupted, "He hasn't gotten used to introducing himself to others yet. He likes to be called, Vacua."

"And you are?"

"Mary, I'm his counselor. He's working through some ... gender identity issues."

"I see." Brandywine said. "Well Vacua, I must say that you are looking stunning today. Do you sing?"

"I..Uh..." Sherlock stuttered.

"Because if you do, there's a place for you in my cabaret. That figure is to die for."

"We were wondering," Sherlock interjected, "If you've seen a friend of mine, short blond hair, wearing a black coat, calls himself John."

"I know a lot of Johns," Brandywine said, " but we have an official no gossip policy here. You could be his best friend and his wife, and I wouldn't say a word to you about it. But here." Brandywine slipped Sherlock a card. "Consider my offer. I really think that you have promise. Enjoy the show." She smiled and walked away.

Sherlock sniffed the card, and then he handed it to Mary. She smelled it. "It's the same perfume."

"Yes, John has definitely been here."

"So where does that leave us?" Mary asked.

"It means that I'm going to have to do something a bit embarrassing," Sherlock said biting his lip.

"More embarrassing than dressing as a woman?" Mary asked.

"Yes." He said frowning. "I'm going to have to beg for help from my brother, Mycroft."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9 – A visit to Mycroft

After a stop off at home to dress, or more accurately to undress, Sherlock and Mary were being issued into a moderately-sized government office. The room was all brown with a large bookshelf in the back, and red curtains over government casement windows. Mycroft sat behind a large desk. The walls were sparsely decorated except for a portrait of the queen. There were two phones. Mary couldn't help wondering if the red phone really did call the prime minister.

Mycroft looked up at them. He was wearing a grey three piece suit as usual. He rose and motioned to the chairs in front of him. "Mrs Watson, always a pleasure." He said, "Sherlock, I knew I'd be seeing you. I expected it a little earlier though I hear that you've been taking part in some...interesting amusements. It's just my opinion, but red is not your color."

Sherlock sneered. "Good evening Mycroft." He said sitting down, "I assume you know why we've come."

"Of course. John has... how would you say it in Australia Mrs Watson? Gone walkabout?"

Sherlock and Mary glanced at each other.

Mycroft opened a piece of furniture topped by a lamp and pulled out a flatscreen computer pad. It looked incongruous in his old style office. He pushed aside his desk lamp and touched the screen in a practiced manner until it separated into four images. Some of the images were a bit choppy.

"This is CCT data from two nights ago." Mycroft said leaning against the front of his desk. "

Sherlock and Mary leaned forward to see better. Two of the cameras showed different views of a subway station. A man was sitting at a bench reading a magazine.

"Is that John?" Mary asked.

"Yes, two days ago." Mycroft said "He left work as usual and sat in the station enjoying tea and a magazine as he does every work day. This day he let the train pass him by not once as he does on occasion, but three times without boarding."

"Do you mean?" Mary asked surprised, "Is John under surveillance all of the time?"

"Of course." Mycroft said, "As a close associate of my brother, I like to keep tabs on him. It has proven valuable once or twice."

"So am I under surveillance as well?" Mary asked nervously.

"No" Mycroft said, "No need. You have very regular habits. You only go to work, the bank, the grocery store, with the occasional visit to the Goldilock beauty parlor. It's not worth the expense to have you watched, but John. John can at times be very...surprising."

"So this is how you get your kicks by watching John?" Sherlock commented knavishly.

"Hardly, he's only one of many people that we keep tabs on." Mycroft said crossing his arms.

"Of course." Sherlock said with a mocking smile. "Now which train did he get on."

"None of them." Mycroft said " Watch. He got up, left the station and hailed a cab."

Sherlock leaned over the screen. " I've got the number. I'll go to the dispatcher and find out where he went."

"Already been done." Mycroft said pulling a card out of his pocket. " He went to this address."

Sherlock took the card and read it, and then he passed it to Mary.

"That's Harry's address." Mary said. She rose and pulled out her phone turning away as she called.

"There is a nightclub. We are certain that John has been there, sometime yesterday, or the day before." Sherlock said to Mycroft.

"What address?" Mycroft requested. Sherlock handed him the card that Brandywine had given him. Mycroft leaned over the pad and typed on it for some minutes. "Time?" He asked.

"Sometime after that view that you showed me." Sherlock replied.

"She's not answering." Mary said. "Do you suppose that she can have gone with him?"

Mycroft adjusted the screen to show the door of Brandywine's . He pushed a button and the images ran by quickly as people moved in jerky succession.

"Stop!" Sherlock said, "There." The camera froze on an image of John standing before the door.

"That's Harry with him." Mary said.

"So he went in. Where did he go afterward?" Sherlock asked.

Mycroft pushed a button and the screen scrolled by quickly again. Several people entered and exited, then Sherlock motioned and he stopped the screen to show three people leaving. They walked to the corner. Harry and the girl peeled off and went in another direction. John, continued down the street alone. They followed him with another camera until he went under a dark bridge. He never came out. They looked back at the previous camera. He didn't come out that way either. They advanced to the next day. He had just disappeared.

"Seems Mr Watson has given us the slip. See what I mean, surprising." Mycroft said with a smile.

"Go back to when they exited." Sherlock said.

"That's not John!" Mary said pointing. Sherlock turned his head. " That's his coat. He got that tear falling over a railing a month ago. He kept going on about it."

Mary shook her head. "It's not him."

Sherlock focused his eyes. Then he sighed, "His watch."

"Yes. He bought that with his discharge money. He never goes anywhere without it."

"So, someone in the bar, Brandywine most likely, helped him escape, and these people were just there to lead us astray." Sherlock noted.

"This Brandywine, perhaps she could be persuaded?"

"She's already told us no." Sherlock pouted, "Go ahead a bit will you?"

Mycroft pushed the button. Harry and another woman peeled off. The woman waved. He stopped the picture. The woman had hair that was three different colors.

"Who is that?" Sherlock asked.

"I don't know." Mary said.

"I will find out." Mycroft asserted.


	10. Missing you

Chapter 10 - Missing you

Sherlock stood next to the mantle. He stared into the mirror but it didn't show John anywhere in the room. Why did John leave? Would he really tire of them both like Mary said, or was this simply some displaced fear of hers brought on by Sherlock's presence? What had Sherlock done to hurt John? What had he done to drive him away? Why had John gone to such elaborate lengths to avoid him?

When Sherlock thought of John, he didn't think of pain, only of pleasure. His times with John were full of good memories. John's smile. His witty comments. The talks that they would have. All those evenings in restaurants where the only sustenance that Sherlock needed was John's presence.

His kisses. Sherlock closed his eyes and remembered how soft John's lips were. He remembered the way John's slightest touch caused his heartbeat to race faster than when he was chasing down a criminal. Normally he didn't like to feel strongly, too distracting, but he didn't mind having feelings if they were about John.

Sherlock clasped his hands under his chin. He had been standing right here the last time that they had been together. John had come over after lunch unexpectedly when work had ended early due to an engineer's meeting. He had walked through that door and said that he had come by for a talk or perhaps to play _Cluedo_ and they had laughed at that. Then one thing had led to another. Sherlock's heart beat faster. Just the thought of John had such power over Sherlock's emotions. Sherlock remembered the feel of him, the smell of him, the sound of his footsteps when he walked behind him on a chase. In fact he imagined that he could hear his feet on the stairs now.

Sherlock opened his eyes. There _was_ a sound on the stairs. He ran across to the door and flung it open. "John!" He cried.

He looked down and saw Mary Watson carrying a pair of suitcases. Sherlock's face, hopes, and heart fell to the floor. Mary dropped her head and slowed her step as Sherlock turned away and walked back onto the room.

When Mary entered, he was at the mantle again. "I'm sorry." She said. "I would have rung the bell, but I was afraid that you might not let me in."

"Why are you here?" Sherlock asked, his back to her.

"I'm moving in." Mary said, " I told you before that I wasn't going to let you out of my sight."

Sherlock kept his back to her. "Can you show me to John's room?" Mary asked, "I'm sorry to say, but I've never seen it."

Sherlock turned and led her up the stairs. Mary followed him in as he turned on the light.

"I've been using it for storage." He said. "It's not suitable for guests."

Mary looked around the room. Boxes were stacked on the surfaces and against the wall, but the center of the room was clear except for a bed with a bare mattress. She put her bags on it. Sherlock turned away and put his hand to his eye.

"Do you have any sheets?" She asked.

"I'll get some." He said escaping down the stairs.

When he came back, he found Mary examining a crate. She lifted her head holding a whip in one hand. "What's this for?" She asked.

Sherlock took the whip from her hand, put it in the box, and walked angrily down the stairs.

Mary sat on the edge of the bed. She put her hand to her stomach. Sherlock Holmes had only ever showed her one side of his personality. The hard, exotic, brilliant, disdainful side. This Sherlock was all emotion. He was overpowering. On the stairs when he saw that she wasn't John...the hurt he felt was so deep she thought that it would bowl her over. Was this the Sherlock that John knew? Mary fell back on the bed and wondered again why she was here.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11 – The escape

John put the blond wig in a box with the rest of the clothes and placed the pre-adressed label on the outside.

"I will get my coat back won't I?" John asked.

"Don't worry so much." Harry said taking another sip from her bottle of beer.

"Should you really be drinking that here?" John said, "It's not even noon."

"Oh take a rest John." Harry said. "I hope you appreciate how I'm disrupting my schedule to help you."

"Yes. I'm sorry." John said. "But can you tell me why, when I told you that we had to get out of London to avoid the camera coverage that you take me to the center of town to Westminister Cathedral no less?"

"Trust your little sister John." She said, "I called in a favor. We'll get out of town and no one will see us."

John paced around the small store room where they were waiting. Then a door opened and light streamed in from outside. "Here's our ride!" Harry said rising from the floor. John looked up and saw a hearse parked in the drive. The driver came forward lifting a set of candles and walked toward the open door in the back.

"Pick up a flower will you." Harry said.

John and Harry carried large displays of flowers in front of their faces placing them into the back of the hearse before jumping in themselves. In a few minutes they were whisked away. John steadied a candelabra as they sped away. Where are we going?

" A funeral home on the outskirts of town. From there we can go wherever you want to go." Harry said, " So do you know where you are going?"

"I can't" John said, " I can't chose where I want to go. Anything that I can think of, they can figure out between the two of them. I need to go somewhere that I wouldn't pick."

" Well that makes this awkward." Harry said. She lay down with her hands folded under her head.

"It's been a while since we spent this much time together." John said.

"It wasn't my choice." Harry said.

"Well if only you could keep sober for a day."

"Why does it make you so mad?" Harry said, "Why are you always trying to control my life? Even when we were little you were always griping at me, about the way I talk, the way I dress, the way I act. How does what I do hurt you?"

"I just don't want you to... I don't want you to be made fun of." John said.

"You act like this is about me, John, but it's about you." Harry demanded, "I'm a part of your image of yourself and you think that if someone insults me they are insulting you. Hell John! The whole world doesn't revolve around you. When I'm with my friends, they aren't thinking about you at all.

"Or is this something deeper?" Harry sat up and looked into his face. "It's because I remind you of dad isn't it?"

"No." John said.

"Yes, it is. It's that stupid empathy of yours. When I act like him you can't stand it. You can't stand the thought of me being like him, because in your mind, that means that you are like him."

"That's not it." John said.

"Yes it is." Harry said.

"No it's not!" John yelled.

They stared at each other in silence and then John collapsed against the wall.

"Oh John." Harry said, "We never really grow up do we?"

John smiled and then frowned. Harry crawled across and gave him a hug. She sat next to him. "We really have to have someplace to go."

John sighed deeply then he explained "A man told me a story once. There were these Indian princes who were being hunted. They had to stay hidden for a year. If they did then they'd get their crown back, but if they were caught they'd have to hide for another thirteen years. So they asked a wise man how to stay hidden, and he said. Take the form of your deepest desire.

"Anything that I could think of Sherlock and Mary would guess, so it's up to you. What is your deepest desire?" John asked.

"You'll laugh." Harry said.

"What is it?"

"I always sort of wanted to study medicine." Harry said.

"Really. Why didn't you?" John asked.

"Don't be ridiculous. My brilliant big brother had already gone to medical school. I couldn't ask for tuition? Beside, my grades were never as good as yours."

"You should have told me." John insisted.

"I couldn't." Harry said. "But this doesn't really help us. It doesn't tell us where to go."

"Yes it does." John said smiling, "I know where you can hear more about medicine than you can stand."

.

.

"A double room for Dr. John Watson. I have a reservation." John said as he stood at the counter of the fancy hotel.

"I see, yes it's right here." The desk clerk said, "You know we don't give refunds for the day that you missed."

"I know." John replied. He signed the roll and picked up his key.

As he walked toward the elevator with Harry, she questioned him. "Don't you think that they'll expect you to be at the conference that you have already registered and paid for?"

"You see, that's Sherlock's weakness." John said, "This is where I'm expected to be. That means that it will be the last place that he will look for me when he knows that I'm running."

"That's too tricky for me. What are we going to do. We don't have any luggage?"

"Lucky for you I took out my mad money before I left." John flashed a wad of money at Harry.

"You had that with you all along, Blimey! What if we'd been robbed." Harry exclaimed.

"Keep it down." John said. "I'll get you some clothes too,"

"Oh Shopping spree!" Harry said excitedly.

"I'll get you something suitable for a medical student."

"Spoil sport." She said.

"And while we're at it, lose the piercings, it's not in character."

"I don't care what you say, I'm keeping the tongue ring." She said sticking her tongue out at him.

"Just make sure not to wear the one with the F word on it."

"Alright, I'll wear the one that says 'lick me'."

They laughed and entered the hotel room.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 – Sleepover with Sherlock

Sherlock came out of his room the next morning wrapped in the purple dressing gown. Mrs Hudson brought in the newspaper. "Good Morning Sherlock." She said putting the paper on the table and walking over to wipe the kitchen counter.

Sherlock sat down and began to read. Just then there was a footstep on the stairs. Mrs Hudson looked up and saw Mary Watson walk by carrying a bucket full of toiletries and wearing fluffy bunny slippers and a flower-print bath robe. She entered the bathroom, shutting the door.

Mrs Hudson stared. "Sherlock? Was that Mrs Watson?" She asked.

"Yes. She'll be staying over for a few days." Sherlock said turning the page.

"Is John here?" She asked.

"No. John's away … somewhere else."

Mrs Hudson frowned, "I don't think that I approve of this situation."

Sherlock folded down the top of the newspaper and looked at her. "What don't you approve of, Mrs Hudson?"

"You can't just stay alone in an apartment with a married woman. It's not decent." She said.

"But John was married and he stayed over. What's the problem?" Sherlock said.

"It's not the same. Well you know your business, Sherlock, but I'd be careful if I were you." Mrs Hudson shook her head and walked down the stairs.

Mary came out dressed. She placed her bucket on a chair and walked over to the refrigerator to look for food. She pulled out some eggs and began to cook them.

Sherlock put down one section of the paper and picked up another. "There 's some instant coffee in the cabinet if you want it." He said.

Mary opened the cabinet and stared at the coffee. Then she closed the cabinet and finished cooking her eggs. She put her eggs on her plate. "Would you like some?" She asked.

"No thank you." Sherlock said.

Mary pulled out her phone and dialed. She listened for a bit and then turned to Sherlock. "There's a message for John from Detective Inspector Lestrade." She said.

Sherlock whipped out his phone and dialed. "It's me." He said, "No, John is not here. Really? Mrs Watson is with me now. Good." He closed the phone and put it back in his pocket.

"What did Greg say?" Mary asked cutting the eggs on her plate.

"Greg... said that he'll be right over."

Mary held her head down and ate the eggs in silence, then she took her plate to the sink. Sherlock looked at Mary with a critical eye. He furrowed his brow. Mary washed her plate and the pan and put them in the dish rack. She turned to leave.

"Your collar is up." Sherlock said.

Mary stared at him. "Thank you" She said and walked over to the mirror to adjust her collar and cuffs before walking back up the stairs to John's room.

Later, a completely dressed Sherlock paced in the living room. There was a ring at the doorbell and Mary rushed down the stairs. Sherlock walked over to the computer and looked up John's blog. There were no updates. There had been none for some time. It made him feel hollow.

Mary walked into the door carrying a box. "What's wrong with Mrs Hudson?" She asked, "She gave me the strangest look."

"Nothing important. So, what's in the box?" Sherlock asked.

"It's a present for you." Mary answered.

Sherlock took the box carefully holding it as if it held a bomb. He opened it.  
Ah, a pair of women's shoes." He said taking the black pumps out of the box.

"For your costume box." She said, "You said that you couldn't find shoes in your size, so I got you a pair. Notice the heel. It's wider. Now try them on."

"You want me to try them on now?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, while there is still time to return them."

Sherlock turned sideways in his chair and started to bend down to untie his shoes when Mary stopped him. "I'll do it." She said "I'm used to taking care of kindergarteners."

Mary got down on her knees and untied Sherlock's shoes. He lifted his feet out. "These dress socks look thin enough. You probably don't have to take them off." She said as she slipped the black pumps onto his feet. "Stand up and tell me how it feels?"

Sherlock stood up in the high-heeled pumps. He began to lose his balance, so he put his hand on Mary's shoulder. She reached up and put her hands on his hips to steady him. Just then the door opened and Mrs Hudson came in. They turned to see her looking at them open mouthed. She turned and ran from the room.

Sherlock sat down and took off the shoes as Mary picked up the shoe box. There was a knock on the door frame and Lestrade stretched his head around the corner. "Is everything Alright? Mrs Hudson said that I better give you warning before I came up."

Sherlock finished tying his shoes and then stood. "So what do you have for us?"

"Steven Jacoby, the man we apprehended this week." Lestrade began, "He broke bail, and we've heard from informants that he's put out a contract on John's life."

"What?" Mary said, "Someone wants to kill John."

"So it seems. I was going to extend protection to him if he needs it. Where is he?"

"John's not here." Sherlock asked, "We're looking for him."

"Has he been hurt? Should I put out a missing person's report?" Lestrade asked.

"No. he's gone on a trip on his own."

"Where?" Lestrade asked.

"We don't know." Sherlock replied.

"He didn't tell you where he was going, Mrs Watson?"

"No" Mary said curtly.

"Doesn't he have work? Where is he supposed to be now?"

"Well we were supposed to be going to a medical conference." Mary explained, "I called yesterday to see if he had arrived, but he never showed up."

No," Sherlock said, "He wouldn't go anywhere that he would expect us to look. John's too smart for that. So where will he go?"

"Are you saying that he doesn't want to be found?" Lestrade asked, "Perhaps he's heard about this already and he's trying to protect you? What other reason would he have to leave his best friend and his wife?"

Sherlock and Mary turned away. Then Sherlock's phone rang. He answered it "Yes? Yes? Good."

"What is it?" Mary asked.

"They found the girl with the three color hair." Sherlock said.


	13. Chapter 13

13. Table talk

Mary, Sherlock, and Lestrade were ushered into a small office in Mycroft's building. At a plain wooden table reminiscent of a school sat the woman with three color hair. She turned to them as they entered.

"Am I in trouble?" She asked in a heavily accented voice. "Because I don't remember doing anything."

The three of them sat at the table across from her, and Lestrade flashed his badge. "I'm Detective Inspector Lestrade and we'd like to ask you a few questions."

"What's this about? Can I get counsel?" She asked.

"Madam, this isn't about you at all. It's about a man called Dr. John Watson. Do you know him?"

"Because I think I should be allowed counsel. You can't just take people off of the street with no reason. It's not right." She insisted.

"We don't mean any harm to Dr Watson. In fact he is a personal friend of mine. It's just very important that we contact him immediately."

"I have rights." She said, "You can't just take people off of the street and question them. I demand to see a lawyer."

"Madam, it's just a few questions." Lestrade implored.

"You let me out of here. This is improper procedure. I'm calling my council member after this."

Mary leaned forward and touched the woman's hand. "Excuse me, what's your name?"

The woman looked at Mary and then looked again, "Jazz, my name is Jazz."

"Pleasure to meet you Jazz, my name is Mary Watson. John Watson is my husband and Harry Watson is my sister in law. Now John and I had a disagreement, and he decided to go on a trip. He probably told you that he didn't want me to find him, but something has happened. We've found out that John is in danger. We didn't know about it before, so John can't have known about it when he left, but there is someone out there who wants to harm him, and we have to find him. I have to find him first.

Jazz sat up, "He's in trouble?"

"Yes. And Harry too if she's with him." Mary replied. "This is a life and death situation. I need to know what you know. If we find him, and he didn't want us to, he'll be disappointed. He may even be a little mad with you, but if we don't find him, John and Harry might die. Please tell me. Do you know where they've gone?"

"No" Jazz said, "they didn't tell me. Brandywine disguised them and they went off. They didn't tell anybody where they were going. Honestly, I don't think they knew. He said it was only for a little while. He wasn't going forever."

Mary sighed. "Thank you. Thank you very much. The inspector will see to it that you get home alright. I'm so sorry that we inconvenienced you. I was just so worried."

Jazz stood and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry miss. He's coming back. I know he wouldn't want to leave a nice lady like you for long."

Jazz and Lestrade walked out of the room closing the door behind them and leaving Sherlock and Mary alone. Sherlock leaned back in his chair stretching his legs and crossing his arms. He stared at Mary with an amazed look on his face.

" How do you do that?"Sherlock asked, "John can do it too."

"Do what?"

"Take someone who is hostile and in a few minutes turn them completely to your side." He responded.

Mary smiled. "She just knew that my feelings were honest."

"I'm always honest but it never works that way for me." Sherlock remarked.

Mary deflated in her chair, "Unfortunately we've hit another dead end. All we've learned is that he wasn't sure of his destination."

"It just means that we must figure out where he is going. Where do you think he plans to go?" Sherlock asked her.

"Honestly right now, I don't have a clue Mr. Holmes."

"Call me Sherlock." He said.

Mary smiled. "And I would like you to call me Mary." She said." And to think, it only took us a year and a half to get this far."

Lestrade came back into the room. "We set her on her way. What should we do next?" He asked.

"Keep a watch on the hotels. John and Harry will need a place to stay. Mary and I will look at his credit card receipts. See if there's any clue of what he's planning."

"Where can I find you?" Lestrade asked.

"We'll be back at my apartment. Call the moment you hear anything."

"I will." Lestrade said and they left.

.

.

.

At a small table in the hotel restaurant. John and Harry examined the lunch menu.

"So how are you enjoying it all Harry?" John asked.

"It's cool!" She said, "except for these boring clothes you got me. I look like I'm here to sweep the floor."

"No you don't." He said, "You look like a neat but modest medical student. I should complain about this shiny grey monstrosity you made me buy. I look like a lawyer not a doctor."

"What do you mean?" Harry said, "You look wicked, for once. Not in that conservative stuff you usually wear."

"I like my clothes." John said.

Just then the waiter came by and offered them wine. John put his hand over Harry's glass, and the waiter left.

"Hey!" Harry yelled, "I wanted some."

"I can't afford having you drunk on this trip. Remember, we're undercover."

Just then someone called, "John, John Watson?"

John turned to see Mike Stamford "Hey Mike!"

"And Harry. I didn't expect to see you at this boring old medical conference. Where's Mary?"

"Oh, she didn't come this trip." John said with a grin plastered on his face.

"Didn't she what a shame?" Mike said. " Well it's good seeing you." He patted John on the back and left.

"Good job staying under cover Johnny boy" Harry said motioning to the waiter who filled her glass with wine after all.


	14. Chapter 14

14. Coffee and confessions

A day of searching receipts and bank records had been fruitless. John had removed a large amount of money from a savings account and was probably using only cash on his trip. A search for John's phone initially led them on a chase until they discovered it in the mailbox at his apartment. Mary opened the envelope and found a message that John had typed and sent back to his own phone.

[Gone on trip. Don't follow. Love You. John]

Sherlock and Mary returned to Baker Street and Mary turned in planning to make an early start. Sherlock went to his room and tried to remember every place that John had said that he wanted to visit. He discounted them one by one.

A noise disturbed Sherlock in the middle of the night. He opened the bedroom door slowly. Perhaps the assassin hunting John had decided to look for him here. He sidled into the room glancing at the closed front door, and peering into the kitchen before spying a figure sitting in John's chair. He slowly moved toward it until he saw that it was Mary.

Sherlock let out the breath that he was involuntarily holding, and Mary turned to face him. Then she turned back. Clasped in her hand was an empty coffee mug. Sherlock knelt down and looked at her face. He narrowed his eyes. Then he took the cup from her hands and walked into the kitchen. He filled the cup with water, microwaved it until it was hot, and then added the instant coffee flakes mixing it with a spoon.

Sherlock walked back into the living room and placed the coffee cup into Mary's hands. Mary sipped the coffee and smiled. Sherlock sat in his chair. "You like coffee." He said, "but I've never seen you make it yourself. What is it about making coffee that disturbs you? I know that John knows. I want to know too."

Mary took another sip. For a long time she said nothing. Then her quiet, intense voice split the silence.

"I was married before." She said, "To a man called Brad Morstan. He wasn't much like John. He was big and opinionated. He worked in construction. Brad loved knowledge. He liked to know about everything. He would tell me about neutron stars, or the mating habits of fresh water fish, or what the phases of the moon meant to medieval peasants.

"I was very young when I married him. He was everything to me. Certainly since we moved here. We used to live in Australia. One day, I got a call, there had been an accident. Brad had been crushed under a beam and killed instantly. Suddenly, he just wasn't there.

"I woke up the next morning and reached for the coffee maker to make myself a cup and then I stopped. Yesterday, Brad had made coffee with that coffee maker, as he did every morning. He would make it and we would drink a few cups. Then he'd rinse out the pitcher, throw away the grounds, and fill the top with water for the next morning. Just yesterday he had done this. His hands were the last ones to have touched that pitcher and those buttons. It seemed to me that if I touched it, I would be wiping away all trace of him. Wiping away the memory of the last cup of coffee that he had made for me. I couldn't do it, so I didn't have coffee that day.

"There was the funeral. Calls from his family. It all seemed to go by in a blur. But the day came when that was all behind me, and I was supposed to get on with my life. But then other things seemed to affect me the same way. I couldn't open the refrigerator, or use the phone, or go to the store, because they all reminded me of Brad. Eventually I couldn't go anywhere or do anything. I collapsed from thirst and exhaustion.

"My mother-in-law found me and took me to the hospital. They transferred me to the psychiatric wing, and I got counseling. I went home. I still couldn't touch the coffee maker or let anyone take it away, but every morning I walked to the corner store and bought a cup of coffee.

"I was taking group counseling for widows when I first saw John. He said that he wasn't a widower. He was grieving for a friend. He sat there tight-lipped, obviously in pain. He didn't want to say anything, but when they pressed him he told this story.

"John said that when he sat in his chair in his old flat, he could see the chair where his friend used to sit, and when he realized that his friend would never sit in that chair again, he didn't know if he could go on. And at that moment I realized, here was a man who understood me.

"I talked to him after the meeting. He said that he wouldn't be coming back again, because no one understood how he could feel this way about just a friend. We started meeting, for coffee, and we've been together ever since.

"Now, I love John. I love John more than you can imagine. But if Brad were to walk through that door tonight, I can't promise that I wouldn't just walk away with him. I still love my first husband. What do you think Sherlock? Does that mean I'm a bad wife?

"John never criticized me for that. He accepted me. He healed me. Every day he wakes up and makes me a cup of coffee because he knows that's what I need to go on with the day. He understands my pain because he felt the same pain when he lost you.

"He accepts me with all my complexity, and that's why even though I'm incredibly afraid of losing him, its so important that I accept him the way he is. That's the reason I never stopped him, all of those times that he walked out of my bed and into yours?"

Sherlock stood up and went back into his room. Mary took another sip of coffee.


	15. Threats and Leads

Chapter 15 - Threats and Leads

Early the next morning Sherlock and Mary walked into Lestrade's office at Scotland yard. "Sorry to get you up here so early," he said, "I just wanted to update you on the information that we have now. You look like you haven't slept at all," he said to Mary who sat quietly in her seat barely paying attention to the proceedings.

"Just one moment," Sherlock said walking out of the office. He returned carrying a styrofoam cup full of coffee. He knelt down and handed it to Mary who held it gingerly looking up at his face to give him a gentle smile. Sherlock ignored Lestrade's shocked expression as he turned down Mary's collar. "You were saying?"

Lestrade walked over to a file cabinet looking back at Sherlock twice as he pulled the file. He laid it on the table opening it to reveal a picture of the man John had tackled less than a week before. "Steven Jacoby," He said, "used to be a petty thug for hire but lately he's had ambition, and he's been expanding his operations. Since the death of Moriarty and the capture of Moran, all sorts of petty criminals have been trying to fill the vacuum that they left behind. We've had our hands full. Jacoby here has been involved in at least eight separate crimes, but the evidence was circumstantial. Anytime we have a witness against him, they mysteriously disappear. I want him. With the evidence that you gathered for us, Sherlock, I was sure that this time we would finally get a conviction."

"But?" Sherlock said, "What's happened?"

"Jacoby always follows the rules. He claims that he's a law abiding citizen. He's never jumped bail. The fact that he's done it this time suggests that he has a personal grudge against John Watson."

"That, and the way he was yelling, 'You're a dead man, Dr. John Watson!' " Sherlock replied.

"He said that?" Mary asked, "Why didn't John tell me that?"

"It's certainly not the first time someone has threatened John's life?" Sherlock continued, "he's had bombs strapped to him and guns to his head and..."

"Sherlock!" Lestrade checked him noticing Mary's horrified expression, "let's not dwell on the past. The word is, that Jacoby has hired a gunman to kill him. This man, Walter Black. " Lestrade pulled out a photo of a dark skinned man with thick black eyebrows and glasses."

"A gunman...Like Moran?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh no. He's nowhere near that class. In fact he probably isn't as good at shooting as John is."

"And that would be relevant if this was the Wild West and they were in a shootout, but they are not." Sherlock quipped, "I need facts. What do we know about him?"

"Not much." Lestrade said. "I've put out alerts on both of them. If they show up, we'll find them."

Mary sat in the chair nursing her coffee when her phone rang. "Please excuse me while I take this call," she demured. "Hello, Mary Watson." She answered.

"Hi Mary, this is Mike. Mike Stamford. Did you get that book I sent you. You asked for it but I only got around to sending it last week."

"Oh Mike, Hello! Yes I did get that book you sent me. Thank You." Mary replied.

"Well I just wanted to check. I meant to ask John when I saw him at the conference, but I forgot."

"What did you say, Mike?" Mary queried excitedly, "When did you see John?"

"Yesterday at the conference. I thought it strange that he should take Harry instead of you, but I was pleased to see them getting along so well. There's been a lot of bad blood between them lately. Oh, here's my ride. Gotta go."

"Well thank you for calling, Mike. Thank you. Good bye."

"He's seen him?" Sherlock asked impatiently.

"He's at the medical conference with Harry." She said.

"Then the chase is on!" Sherlock exclaimed as he strode out of the room.


	16. Chapter 16

16. Hide and seek

Harry came out of the crowded lecture hall. As runaways went this was remarkably entertaining, with comfortable beds and hotel dining. It was a far cry from the days in the basement of John's dorm washing herself in the sink because they didn't have any women's showers.

She pulled out the program guide. "John, I'm going to go to this 'Origins of cancer' lecture in fifteen minutes. Where will you be?"

"This panel." He said pointing at the program.

"Rapid responses to primary abdominal trauma?" She said, "Sounds fun. Meet you back here at two."

.  
Sherlock, Mary, and Lestrade rushed through the glass doors and into the hotel lobby. They took a moment to orient themselves. Signs advertised the medical conference while other events were on different levels.

"Mary, Lestrade, you go to the front desk and find their room. I'll check out the conference." Sherlock said.

Sherlock rushed past the administration table with a "Need to find a doctor. It's an emergency!" and went on to search the rooms.

He pranced down the hallways, his coat swinging behind, popping into the back of lecture halls and bobbing from side to side as he looked for John. His agitated presence disturbing more than a few as he rotated through each room.

Harry saw a blur pass behind her and turned to see Sherlock striding by. She stood shuffling forward rapidly without turning until she was out of the lobby and then she tore down a hallway.

John was just getting into the discussion when Harry pulled at the back of his jacket. He knocked her hand away and kept listening turning angrily when she tugged harder. "Sherlock's here!" She whispered in his ear.

John excused himself as he sidled down the row hurrying out. He rushed to the exit as fast as his sturdy legs could take him without running.

"To the room?" John asked.

"No." Harry said, "They may already be there."

Harry and John walked toward the lobby stopping beside the elevators and peering at the exit beyond. At the front desk, between them and the door, Mary and DI Lestrade stood talking to the concierge. John fell back against the wall with a sigh. "This is a bit of a pickle." he said.

They rushed back down the hall just catching the sight of a man in a long black coat turning the corner. "In here!" Harry called pulling John down a dead end corridor, "Come on."

John looked at the door, "But this is a ladies restroom!" He exclaimed. Harry pushed him inside.

An older woman turned around shocked as he passed her. "Harry!" he cried but Harry proceeded to the end of the stalls and climbed up onto the sink. She hit the window twice before it propped open, then she began to climb out.

"Have you done this before?" John asked.

"I used to do it all the time when the store detective was after us for shoplifting." Harry said.

They dropped to the ground behind a low metal fence and rushed toward the loading dock. Horns blared as they crossed the street rushing forward to catch a bus. They stared out the window as it drove away looking behind them for pursuit. As it turned the corner, the bus revealed a dark man with glasses and large bushy eyebrows standing on the curb watching them.


	17. Chapter 17

17. Projections and reflections

The porter opened the door when Lestrade showed his badge. Mary and Sherlock entered in his wake. Mary walked into the room touching the bedside stand. She turned and said, "John would have slept here. He prefers getting into bed on the right side." She sat on the bed where he would have sat.

Sherlock strode around the room examining the floor. He bent down on his hands and knees and looked under the bed pulling out a small piece of paper. He handed it to Lestrade.

"It's a clothing receipt." Lestrade said.

Sherlock continued his examination on the other bed. "He bought a new suit. If we can talk to the person who sold it to him. We may be able to give others a better description of them. "

"I'm on it." Lestrade said striding out of the room.

Sherlock stood and opened the wardrobe bending down to run his gloved finger across the bottom of the drawer.

"Sherlock." Mary reflected, "What will happen when we find them?"

Sherlock examined some lint. He pulled out a small plastic bag and placed it inside.

"I suppose we will ask John who he wants to live with." Sherlock said closing the wardrobe and advancing to the drapes.

Mary turned her head to him. "What if he doesn't chose you?" Mary asked.

Sherlock halted for a moment. He remembered tears and salty kisses the first time John had left him. Dark, resentment-filled nights spent curled up on John's empty bed. He recalled the gun that John had hidden in the flowerpot in apartment 221C. It was still there. Sherlock turned to Mary. "What will you do if he choses me?" He asked.

Mary cupped her hand, and nodded her head. She didn't have to say it, Sherlock knew as well as she did what would happen. It would start with coffee or maybe something like the place where his watch sat on the nightstand every evening. She would start to avoid places. To isolate herself. One day, she just wouldn't get out of bed at all. They would take her back to the hospital.

John knew how fragile Mary still was. Every day that he had stayed in their apartment, John had never failed, not once, to make her coffee, and when Sherlock was in the deepest of depression and he had tried to kill himself, what did John yell? Sherlock remembered the words as clearly as if John were in the room with him now. He had said, "How could you try to leave me? How could you do that to Mary?" He hadn't understood it then, but he had an inkling of it now.

Sherlock had assumed that John's attraction to Mary was purely physical, or maybe it was a desire for the normality of a conventional family. He had never imagined that it was a natural extension of John's need to care for others.

Sherlock wanted John. John had helped him through some of his worst times. Sherlock had often been careless with his own life. He had been less so with John around, because he knew that his death would hurt John … had hurt John. John needed him. But Mary needed John even more.

Now he realized for the first time what he was asking John to do. To violate his oath and turn away from a person who was in pain. No wonder John had run rather than make that choice.

Sherlock looked at Mary sitting quietly on the edge of the bed. She didn't look the same as when he had first met her. That Mary had been strong, commanding. A woman who could walk into a room with a dozen crying babies and comfort them with her quiet confidence alone. Now she looked smaller, as if she had shrunk into herself. Her hands curled as if they wanted to hold onto something but they had no strength to keep it from falling.

Sherlock imagined a morning at Baker Street after John had chosen him. Sherlock would stand behind John's chair drinking a cup of coffee. John would frown. When Sherlock asked him what was wrong, he would just shake his head smiling and laughing like any normal day, while inside he was worrying about her. As soon as Sherlock turned away his frown would return. That existence would wear John down. Tear him apart.

Sherlock parted the curtains and looked out into the city. Would John survive any decision that they asked him to make? Could he get through this with his gentle heart intact?


	18. Truth and Vodka

Chapter 18 – Truth and Vodka

In the dark of evening, John stood at the window of the dingy hotel. The man at the counter held the ID up to his eyes lifting his thick glasses with one hand as he read it. Then he wrote details into the book.

John paid cash for the room, and walked past taking Harry's arm as he led her into the cheap hotel room.

"Well this is a dump." Harry said. "Why didn't you get two beds?"

"That would have been suspicious." John replied, "I get the feeling that these rooms are normally rented by the hour. At least the sheets are clean." John said laying back on the mattress. It squeaked.

Harry sat next to him. Her hands folded behind her head. "You know they can search for names by computer now. Someone is sure to see your name on the register."

"This isn't the kind of place where the names are frequently updated. If anything, they update the register once a day. Besides, I didn't use my own name." John answered.

"But you gave him your ID. I saw you."

"That wasn't my ID." John said.

"Then whose was it?" Harry asked

"Detective Inspector Lestrade." John replied.

"Are you crazy?" Harry said, "Impersonating a policeman. You don't even look like him."

"Did you see the size of that man's glasses. I doubt that he could tell what I looked like if I stood right next to him. It's a shame we didn't have a chance to go back to our room. My one change of clothes was there."

"Trust your sister." Harry said, "I told you I've done this before. I packed everything in my bag before I left including a few extras."

Harry placed her purse on the bed and pulled out a bottle of Vodka.

John sat up. "Harry, I said no drinking!"

"Now John." She began, "After a day like this I could use a drop, and you could too."

Harry opened the bottle and took a swig. She passed it to John who drank.

"So John." Harry asked, "When is this going to end? When can we stop running?"

John took another swig of Vodka and then rubbed his chin in thought. "Try to get some rest." he said lying back on the bed.

"Not yet" Harry said taking another sip.

John lay on his side. The room felt wrong to him. Something to do with the air, or the way that it echoed. It didn't feel like home.

"Have another drink, John." She said offering the bottle.

John waved it away silently.

"Then talk to me. Tell me how you feel." Harry inquired.

"I can't" John whispered closing his eyes tighter.

"Yes you can. I'm your sister." Harry demanded.

John rolled over onto his back. " I feel conflicted." He said, "When Mary and I got married, I absolutely knew that it was the right thing to do, I had no doubt. None.

"I've always wanted to get married and have a family. I put it off when I joined the military, but it was always in the plan. When I almost died I was thinking, 'but I haven't even had kids yet!' Mary will make an amazing mother. I look at her and everything feels right. Do you know what I mean?

"But Sherlock. I never expected him. He wasn't in the plan I had for my life. I met him and he threw me for a loop. He still does. Every time I meet him it's like I'm meeting him for the first time. I never get tired of him. Sometimes I get angry with him. Sometimes I get frustrated, actually, he frustrates me a lot, but I always go back to him. I always WANT to go back to him, because...

"It's like only being able to see in black and white and then suddenly seeing color for the first time. He brings color to my life. When I'm not with him everything turns gray and pointless.

"I feel like there are two John Watsons. The John that I wanted to be before I met Sherlock, and the John that lives only for Sherlock. The only problem is that there is only one me. I can't give them both what they want, and I can't stand the thought of losing either of them."

"But John." Harry said, "It's not fair to them. You've got to chose. Forget honor, forget duty, forget your dreams when you were a kid, our childhood was always fucked up anyway. Just think of it this way.

"Imagine the world is destroyed. Everyone is dead, gone. There's only you no one else on this entire planet, and you have a magic charm, that will bring one person back to life to live with you. Only one to live with you till you both die and the worms eat your corpses. Who would it be? Who would it be, John? Do you know?"

John thought about it. He imagined that charm as a genie's lamp. He closed his eyes and rubbed the lamp. The fog formed into a shape, and he knew. He knew what his decision was.

"So have you figured it out yet?" Harry asked.

"Yes." John said, "Yes, I've made my decision."

"Well don't keep me in suspense." Harry chattered. "Who do you choose?"

"I choose Sherlock." John said.

"Oh" Harry said putting down the bottle and falling back onto the bed. "You've made a decision. That's good. But we both know that you're never gonna tell him."

"I'm not?" John asked.

"No. Because in order to tell him that you want to be with him, you'll have to tell Mary that you don't want to be with her and you can't say the words." Harry turned and touched his shoulder.

"I said it before, we never really grow up. Inside we still are those hurt kids reeling from the nasty things that our parents said to each other. My drinking, your empathy.

"We both know that it is physically impossible for you to do it, because saying those words won't just be betraying Mary. It will be betraying Mom. And good Johnny, loyal Johnny could never do that. You can never repeat the words that Dad said to Mom all those years ago, _'I'm leaving you for another man_'."

John bit his lip and clenched his eyelids together curling up onto himself, because he knew that what Harry had said was the truth.


	19. Clues

Chapter 19 - Clues

Sherlock sat on the twin bed in the hotel thinking and waiting for Lestrade to return. Mary was in John's bed sleeping. She had looked exhausted, and Sherlock had told her to try to get some sleep. She had taken off her shoes, pulled the cover over her, and fallen asleep almost immediately. Sherlock lifted the pitcher on the table and poured himself a glass of water. He spilled a bit, and mopped it up with a paper napkin which he balled up in his hand to throw away.

Suddenly a thought came to him. He dropped the paper and rushed to the wastepaper basket. He riffled through it pulling out a rectangle of plastic, then he smiled as if he had just been given first prize in the fair. Lestrade entered the room saying, "I've got a picture of the suit that John bought, and a description of what Harry was wearing." He noticed Sherlock playing in the trashcan, "You seem happy," he said.

"I just found a clue that may help solve this case." Sherlock said as he whipped out his phone. "Mrs. Hudson," he cried, "it's me, Sherlock. I need you to look in my flat for me. Yes, I'll wait."

"What's going on, Sherlock?" Lestrade asked.

"I already told you, I found a clue." Sherlock said then, "Yes Mrs Hudson, now look in my sock drawer. Open the cardboard box to the left of them. Yes, yes, I'm glad you appreciate my sock index, but do you have the box? Now inside there are some Identification cards. They say Detective Inspector Lestrade. Do you see them?"

"Are you telling me, Sherlock, that you've taken my ID?" Lestrade asked irritated.

"Yes, now count them. How many are there? Good. Good. Thank you Mrs Hudson, you've been brilliant."

"Is that why I keep losing them?" Lestrade asked "Sherlock, I had to pay for those! How many do you have?"

"Mary Watson?" Sherlock said, "Oh don't worry she's in the hotel room with me. Yes, she's in bed right next to me." A look of surprise crossed Sherlock's face, "She hung up on me!" he exclaimed.

"Now Sherlock this is serious." Lestrade lectured. "You can't just take a Scotland Yard officer's ID like that."

"I just did," Sherlock said holding up Lestrade's wallet. He reached out and snatched it back. "The point is that one of my collection is missing. John must have taken it. Therefore we now know the alias that he is under." Sherlock dialed a number.

"You mean that John Watson is running around town telling people that he's me?"

"Mycroft, run a check on hotels. Where did Detective Inspector Lestrade check in tonight. Then when will it be available? Alright, call me in the morning."

"What did he say?" Lestrade asked.

"Mycroft can trace it tomorrow. I'm going to bed." Sherlock tossed off his shoes and lay down in the empty twin bed.

"You can't just sleep here?" Lestrade said.

"Why not, the room's paid for," Sherlock replied covering up.

Lestrade shook his head, then after checking his pockets to make sure that he still had his wallet he walked to the door and turned out the light.

"Good Night, Sherlock," he said.


	20. Chapter 20

20. Carousel

Harry and John sat outdoors at a table in the park. The park had a kiddie carousel and the cries of little children filled the air as John finished his fizzy drink and Harry tossed some crisps into her mouth.

"Thank you, Harry, for coming on this mad adventure with me." John remarked smiling softly.

"Don't mention it." Harry said, "This was fun. And it was good to spend some time with you again big brother."

They looked at the carousel. A little blond haired child on a white pony turned her head and smiled at her mother.

"It's hard to believe that we were ever like that." Harry said, "Open, free, untroubled."

John rested his head on his hand, "Harry, do you think that I'll ever be happy?"

Harry put down her bag and stared at John. "But John," she said, "you are the shining vision of success. Doctor, soldier, writer, detective, husband, everything that you do, you do well. Me, I'm just an old drunk."

"No Harry," John said, "You're a good person, and you're my little sister, so don't talk about yourself that way."

"Can't stop yourself can you. You always have to tell me what to do." She chided.

"It's my prerogative. Well, I guess I better call Sherlock. Can I borrow your phone, I didn't bring mine."

"You told me to leave mine behind!" Harry complained, "Oh well, there's no need anyway, he's right over there."

John stood up. He could see Harry, Mary and DI Lestrade approaching. John stifled a desire to flee as Sherlock ran toward him. Sherlock grabbed him by the shoulders holding him tightly and shook him.

"John!" he exclamed, "This was fun! Brilliant!" He made a little hop raising his hands. "I loved it. And going to the conference where you were supposed to be, Ha! ha! ha! you got me there. We should make this an annual event. Though you won't fool me so easily next time."

"Good, Sherlock, Good to see you too." John said. "Mary?" John gave her a kiss. "How have you been?" Mary nodded.

"Well another case closed," Inspector Lestrade said. "I think that I'll be off back to London. Good day." Lestrade waved and left them behind in the park.

The four of them stood beside the carousel glancing at each other and their smiles became more neutral expressions as they remembered why they were here.

John pointed, "Fancy a carousel ride?" He asked.

The ticket taker looked at them twice, but didn't question as Harry, John, Sherlock, and Mary got onto the carousel.

Mary sat on a yellow and pink horse with flowers. Harry on a brown horse with a mane of flame red. Sherlock sat on a black horse closest to John who rode on a white one. The children looked up at them smiling, but their parents were a bit more suspicious pulling their children around to ride on the opposite side of the carousel.

The music started and the carousel began to turn the horses rising and falling with the music.

"What's with the carousel?" Sherlock asked, "Are you going through a second childhood?"

"Why shouldn't we" Harry tossed in, "The first one wasn't that great."

"You know, " John began, " Now I'm thinking that this is possibly the most insane thing that I've ever done."

Just then a chip of the white horse flew off. Sherlock threw himself behind his horse. "The gunman!" he yelled as another chip flew off of the ear.

The air was full of the cries of children and the screams of parents as their horses passed out of the line of sight of the gunman. John rushed over to Mary, pushing her and Harry into a sleigh as he rushed beside Sherlock to yell in his ear, "What gunman? Who's after you?"

"It's not me he's after." Sherlock said as a bullet whizzed past his shoulder and he ducked down further. His hiding place changing constantly with the rising and falling of the horse.

"We've got to get off this thing." John said. He crouched down waiting until they had passed onto the opposite side from the gunman, and then he grabbed Harry and Mary by the shoulder pulling them off of the moving carousel. He lifted Mary over the railing. Harry climbed it and Sherlock followed as they ran across the open yard.

A tuft of grass exploded beside John's foot and he shifted direction throwing himself behind a wall. Mary followed, but Harry peeled off in the other direction taking cover in a sweet shop.

Sherlock rushed around the corner tossing himself down beside John.

"What's going on?" John asked.

"That man you downed in the store yard last week, he hired someone to kill you." Sherlock said. "You take Mary and hide in that shed, it has stone walls. I'll see if I can get behind him."

"I'm the one with the military training." John said, "It should be me who goes after him."

"The man is aiming at you, John" Sherlock said, " He may let me slip by."

John stood for a second staring into Sherlock's eyes. His hand on his shoulder. Then he nodded his head. "Okay. I'll get Mary to safety."


	21. Cornered

Chapter 21 - Cornered

Sherlock dodged bullets diving behind some bushes and ultimately hiding behind a park bench. John pulled Mary behind him as he rushed into a small stone shed. He closed the wooden door finding that it had no inside bolt and peered out through an unglazed window. A bullet flew past his ear sending chips flying. He ducked down.

Mary sat on the floor staring at him, "John." she said, "I need to talk with you."

John cautiously bent his head forward, ducking suddenly as another bullet came in through the window. "Now is not a good time, Mary," he said. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed that Mary was standing behind him. He rushed over and pulled her to the ground. "Careful!" He said,"This is life or death."

"I don't care," she said, "I need you to listen to me. This is more important to me than getting shot."

John glanced at the window and back at Mary who stared at him with eyes full of intensity, eyes edged with tears. John knelt down beside her holding her hands. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"I need to apologize," She said.

"No you don't, Mary. Not to me, and it's certainly not life or death."

"But it is. I made you a promise, before we got married. A promise to let you remain the way that you are, and I broke it. The night before you left, I acted like the stereotypical jealous wife. I was angry and nasty and I am ashamed of myself."

"Mary, we can talk about this later."

"No we can't, because I hurt you, and you pulled away from me. You're still pulling away from me."

John flinched as stone chips flew off of the wall over their heads. He gave Mary a kiss on the cheek and said, "I forgive you. Now can you squat a little further into that corner?"

Mary moved over like he asked. John squatted behind the door holding a rake, the only weapon that he could find in the mostly empty shed. Mary sat behind him. She put her head on his shoulder. He leaned forward shifting his weight, but she held on. He turned his head when he felt warm tears soaking into his shirt.

"Mary, what's wrong? Are you afraid?" He asked.

"Yes," she said.

"Don't worry," John asserted, "Sherlock is sure to be getting close now. We'll get out of this safely."

"I'm not afraid of the gunman. I trust that you know how to take care of yourself," Mary began, "I'm afraid of what will happen when Sherlock does get here. I'm afraid that you will leave me."

John dropped the rake and turned to her. She wrapped her arms around his chest hugging him tightly. "Don't leave me. Please, don't leave me," she whispered into his chest.

"Mary," John said, "I'm right here."

"I know that you don't love me. I can live with that. But I don't want to live alone, not again. I can't start over with someone new, it's too painful."

John took her tear-strewn face in his hands. "Now Mary," He said, "of course, I love you." and he kissed her. Mary twined herself around John pulling him deeper in the kiss. Covering his eyes with her hair so that he did not see the door quietly open. He did not notice the stealthy footsteps of the man who entered and turned to stare at him.

The man wearing the long coat and scarf who stared down watching the man that he loved, the man whom he had been chasing for days, passionately kissing his wife.


	22. Returning home

Chapter 22 - Returning home

John looked up to see Sherlock watching him. Sherlock stood very stiffly, looking down with only his eyes, his chin straight and hard.

"Lestrade heard about the incident before he left town," Sherlock said, "He came back with some of the local constables and they were able to subdue the gunman. It's safe for you to come out now, or... when you're ready." Then Sherlock turned stiffly, and strode out of the shed.

"Sherlock!" John called trying to go after him, but Mary held him back.

John and Mary met Harry outside by the empty carousel. Despite the sunlight, the day seemed much darker.

"We've captured the gunman." Lestrade said, "It was Black alright, but Jacoby is nowhere to be found. I would be happier John if you would let me get a police van to take you all back to London."

"Sounds good," Mary said in a much happier voice.

Sherlock didn't say a word.

Lestrade stayed behind to talk with the local police, so it was just the four of them in the back of the van. The van was normally used for SWAT teams in full gear. It had two benches facing each other on either wall and a double door that swung open in the back. A tiny window allowed them to communicate with the driver. Mary sat beside John holding his arm, and Sherlock and Harry sat across from them.

It was a quiet, stressful ride to Baker Street. John kept staring at Sherlock who avoided his gaze, while Mary kept twining her fingers through his. Harry watched all of this with a sour expression on her face. She kept looking into her bag, but she couldn't find any more vodka there.

Mrs Hudson met them on the step as they were all ushered out of the van. She pulled John aside as the others walked up to the flat.

"I'm glad you're back John," Mrs Hudson said, "and if I were you, I wouldn't be going on any other long trips any time soon if you take my warning," she said winking and nodding upstairs.

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson. I don't plan to," John said disengaging himself and walking up the stairs.

When he entered the flat, all eyes were on him. Sherlock sat in his chair across from Mary who sat in 'John's' chair. Harry sat at the table where John used to write his blog. John stopped in the middle of the room, feeling like a child in a voice recital who has realized that he doesn't remember the words.

"John," Sherlock began his face serious, his forehead lined with anxiety, "have you made your decision? Have you decided who you want to live with?"

John looked at both Sherlock and Mary. He took a breath. "Yes, I've made a decision," he said.

"What is it?" Sherlock asked.

John looked at Mary, who sat forward in her seat, her hand over her heart as if she were expecting to faint any minute. He looked at Sherlock whose intense eyes stabbed into him as if he were trying to physically peer into John's brain. Then he walked across the room to stand next to the mantle. "I choose..." he began.


	23. Chapter 23

HARRY

Harry felt the tension in the room. It was horrible, It was like the break-up with Clara or more like when she and John were children. People who claimed to love them used them as pawns in their own battles, when the truth was all that they cared about was winning.

Couldn't they see how much this was hurting John? Why was there no more Vodka? As soon as this was over, Harry planned to find Jazz, go back to Brandywine's and get completely plastered. She would take John with her.

But none of this seemed right to her now. When she looked at John, she remembered when he was ten, and so torn up about things that he had paced around her room yelling.

"Dad wants me to move in with him. But I won't because I HATE Dad! Before, we were happy."

"But John!" Harry said, "Maybe if we're good. If we work really hard we can get them back together again. I can try to get better grades, and ..."

"I won't go with Dad. I'd rather live on my own. If I runaway, Harry, will you promise not to tell them where I am. We'll make our own home you and me, and we'll be happy."

When Harry looked at John's face, she saw that ten year old boy. Forced in the middle of a painful situation. Forced to make decisions that he shouldn't have to make. Forced to be the villain, but feeling like the victim.

Her stomach clenched as she remembered it too. The yelling. The recrimination. The guilt. As a child, she had thought that everything would be better if their parents had stayed together, but now with her adult eyes she realized that they had stayed together too long.

'They stayed together just long enough to break our heart, and our hearts are still broken.' she thought.

Harry looked at John, and she knew that whatever he said next would feel to him like the breaking up of his family again. I can't let him go through with this. The runaway pact is still in effect. I've got to save him. She got to her feet.


	24. Chapter 24

SHERLOCK

Sherlock sat in his chair. Gazing at John's back. He watched how the tensing of John's shoulders changed the folds in his shirt. The way he rubbed his arms as if confession made him itch. "I choose..."

Sherlock's mind raced ahead. It was a simple problem really. A choice with two solutions, Sherlock or Mary. It wasn't the choice that was the problem but the consequences.

Emotions were so complicated. Why couldn't they simply fight over John as in the days of old. John would sit on a stage. Perhaps wearing a pointy hat with a scarf and Mary and Sherlock would fight over him.

That would be the better solution. Sherlock knew that he could win John in a fight. In jousting, sword-fighting or judo, Mary didn't stand a chance. But what if she got to chose the event. What events would Mary choose? Diapering? Housekeeping? Cooking?

At least at cooking he had a chance. If he was given the choice of what they would cook, he could chose coffee.

Sherlock glanced at Mary. She was as tense as a spring. He could predict what was going to happen. If John chose her, Mary would sit up with her lips parted and her breasts heaving and smile and possibly even laugh. She would glowing, angelically float up out of the chair and into John's arms.

But if he chose Sherlock, she would sink down into her chair wilting like a flower that was left unwatered in the desert sun. Her entire countenance would speak of loss.

Sherlock remembered the trip. How every day without John, Mary had seemed smaller and less alive. He narrowed his eyes. The signs were there. The curled hands, the clenched knees, as if she was involuntarily curling into a fetal position. She sat very properly with her hands on her knees.

"How could you do this to Mary?" John had said back then.

If John moved back in with Sherlock. Mary would be left alone. No one would make her that cup of coffee and she would become unstable again. But she would not be the only one affected, because as a nanny, she also cared for young children. Without her, they would cry, they would suffer.

But more than that, even though Sherlock felt ecstatic at the though of living with John again, he knew that if Mary suffered because of it, John would never be happy. He would never have peace.

There was only one solution. He had to lose. John had to stay with Mary. Sherlock stood and raised his hand to stop John from talking. To give Sherlock a chance to say that he had changed his mind, that John couldn't live with him. There was no room in the flat. John had moved out on his own. He couldn't possibly spare the space.

John had to live with Mary. It was the only way that Sherlock could save him.


	25. Chapter 25

MARY

Mary held her hand to her heart waiting for the other shoe to fall. She knew what was about to come out of his lips. Had known from the moment that they had found John on the park bench. When Sherlock had laughed and done that little jump, the look on John's face had been so open like an infant who sees its mother enter the room. It was love pure and simple. Mary knew that John loved her, but his love for Sherlock was on another level altogether.

Mary was not happy with her own conduct these last few days. Her ideals and her actions had not been aligned. She couldn't keep herself from wanting to fight, to compete with Sherlock. When Sherlock had entered the shed and saw John kissing her, he had been hurt. John had seen it. John wanted to go to him, but she had held him back. She was jealous. She wanted John to herself.

Her love of Brad had also been a jealous love. He had been her life, and if he wasn't around, then life could go hang! Her inaction wasn't fear as she had always thought, but anger. Anger that the world had taken Brad from her. Anger that everyone expected her to go on without him. She had thrown a tantrum like a stubborn child. Staring at the coffee maker until everyone thought her an invalid.

Now she looked at John, and she thought that he might chose her not out of love, but out of pity. What kind of life would that be? Having a husband who had sacrificed his happiness to care for her. John would do it. John was noble and kind and self-sacrificing.

She didn't want to change John. She didn't want to hurt him either. She would let him go. She would get counseling and buy a new coffee maker. She would go back to the way she had been before she married John. Yes it was painful to live alone. But she would take that pain rather than inflict the smallest shadow to John's beautiful heart.

She turned to face John. He was in pain now because they had given him the burden of choosing between them. She rose out of her seat. She had to stop him before he broke his heart. She had to save him.


	26. Chapter 26

JOHN

John leaned against the Mantle facing toward the kitchen, and away from Sherlock and Mary, because he found it hard to say how he really felt to their faces.

He opened his mouth and said " I choose..." but then his voice contracted and he couldn't speak. John wasn't the kind of person who could say his innermost feelings out loud. Maybe if he could write it down? But even then John was afraid that he could not do it.

Emotions were poetry. They were to be felt and seen and returned. They weren't something that could be described. Perhaps, in a darkened bedroom John could whisper his love into someone's ear, but not here, not like this.

On the long van ride here, he had composed a speech. He wanted to say, "The truth is that I love you both but in different ways.

"Mary is the better part of my heart. Her kindness comes without thought, without reserve. She has her weaknesses but they are endearing. She has a true love of children, and of learning. She has amazing ability to get to the truth. She sees through anything. But she doesn't judge people because of her compassion and empathy.

"She's fragile, and beautiful, and she draws me like no other woman. She's passionate, and demanding, and loyal. Too loyal at times. If I ever do have children, I want her to be their mother, because I've seen her with children, and she is just amazing.

"I like it that she needs me. It is so easy to comfort her. Her needs are simple, and her gratitude is limitless. Her body is amazingly sensitive, and I adore touching her.

"She respects me, and looks up to me, and makes me feel good. I'm happy to have her as my wife.

"But Sherlock is like the other half of my own soul. The dream of flight that a bird has when it first tests out its wings. He opens my eyes to new dimensions of experience. He stimulates my mind, and my heart, and my body. I would be content simply to stand at his side. My greatest moments are the times when I protect him, or else when he looks at me.

"We are tuned to each other like strings on a violin, and when he plays, I vibrate in resonance. In action, we are one instrument, one organism.

"In terms of intellect and reasoning skills he is so much more than me. More than I ever will be, but when it comes to understanding of others, of compassion, of empathy he is so much less. And I don't think any less of him because of this. It just makes me feel, more than ever. That we are meant to be together.

"I love you both, but if I can only have one. If the world can't tolerate my heart's desire. Then there is only one choice.

"Sherlock. I choose Sherlock. I want to be with him."

John opened his mouth to say these words, but nothing came out. Harry and Mary and Sherlock all stood and turned toward him the moment before a fire bomb flew through the window exploding and setting the window drapes ablaze.


	27. The ending

27. Happy ending

A strange group sauntered into Brandywine's that evening. They sat up front asking for the tables to be pushed together. An awkward feat when the tables are round. Harry bought two bottles of wine to start with and they chattered as they brushed the dust and broken glass out of their hair and onto the floor.

John and Harry sat on the left, Mary and Sherlock in the center, and Lestrade sat on the end looking around at the place as if he had landed on another planet. He looked up, and up again at Brandywine who came over to their table.

"Harry, John, so good to see you again," She said, "and is this ...Vacua and her counselor? My, my you are striking no matter what you wear aren't you? Remember, my offer still stands. Give these people anything they want. I'm paying tonight."

Lestrade turned toward Sherlock. "Vacua? Who is Vacua?"

In all the drama surrounding John's living arrangements, everyone had forgotten that someone was trying to kill him. Jacoby had tossed a brick attached to a lighted container of kerosene through the window. He was waiting downstairs to shoot John when he ran out of the house. Barring that, he had a pair of wicked knives.

The fact that everyone was already on their feet had saved them. John had rushed forward and pulled the curtains down. Sherlock and Harry had stomped out the fire in the drapes, and Mary had smothered the kerosene lamp with a couch pillow.

Sherlock glanced out of the window and then tore down the stairs to confront Jacoby. John ran after him leaving Mary to call Lestrade who she now had on speed dial.

He aimed the gun at Sherlock who dodged rolling across the ground in his long coat before disarming him with a Judo move. John just charged and knocked him to the ground rolling him over and grasping his hands as he had done the first time that he had captured him.

"Bastard!" He yelled at Jacoby's back, "You have a grudge to settle you come to me. You want to kill me, you look in my face. You don't threaten the people that I love. Everybody in that room was my family, and I would die before I would let you harm a hair on their heads. I don't care about the courts, or the law, you listen to me now. If I ever see you around any of them again. If you ever decide to send someone to shoot me in a park full of children again, I will kill you myself no matter what the courts decide."

The police had come. Attempted murder in front of multiple witnesses was apparently enough to make Lestrade extremely happy which is why when they were done taking samples and photographs, and Sherlock had hung a blanket over the window, they had been able to talk him into coming here.

First because Harry desperately wanted a drink, and next because Mrs Hudson was going ballistic that there had been another explosion in Sherlock's apartment.

"Do you have any idea how much it costs to hire a glassier in central London?" She demanded. Storming around the room and examining the burn on the carpet and the stains on the pillow. They had left as soon as they could.

A new singer came onto the stage, and Lestrade turned to stare. John laughed as he remembered how they had dressed up here days before. "Do you think they still have my coat?" He asked.

Just then Sherlock and Mary came over. "We think that we've worked it out." Mary said.

"Worked what out?" John asked.

"Your schedule." Sherlock replied.

"I get you most evenings and every other weekend." Mary enumerated, "Sherlock gets you Wednesday night. That's my day with the twins, so I usually stay late."

"And if there is a case. You can come over immediately and stay for three days before we have to renegotiate." Sherlock said excitedly.

"And on our anniversary." Mary said, "I get that one and the day after."

"Are you arranging custody for me?" John asked.

"Yes!" Sherlock said, "Don't worry, I'll type you up a schedule."

John leaned his head against his hand. Harry laughed.

"But this is insane?" John said.

"It's my fee." Sherlock said, "She wouldn't divorce you so we had to come up with some other sort of arrangement."

"But what about...you said that you couldn't live this way. That things had to change."

"We decided to change instead." Mary said, "I love you John, and I know you won't be happy unless you have it all. You should be able to stay home and read to your children, and still run off to fight crime with Sherlock. I never doubted that you love me. I know that you'll always come home to me."

"But you'll be alone."

"Stop fussing John." Sherlock interjected, "You can teach the kids to make coffee. It's all push buttons these days. A two year old could do it."

"Now you're encouraging me to have children?" John asked.

"Why not? We need something to keep Mary busy or she'll always be in our hair."

"And before you ask, John," Mary said, "We are naming none of our children Sherlock."

"But this is... you aren't really serious are you. This is not...usual."

"It's certainly not ordinary, John." Sherlock said, "But then again neither are you."

Harry exploded with laughter, "Oh Johnny boy," She said, "hopping from house to house. How are you going to respond now when they call you gay?"

"I guess I'll just say have to say that I'm bisexual. And you know Harry, people really can be bisexual. It isn't just some repression thing. I actually do like girls."

"I know." Harry said. "I only ever really said that to irritate you."

John gave a huge sigh and shook his head.

Brandywine walked over and put an hand on John's shoulder. He looked up at her grinning from ear to ear. "I'm so happy for you," she whispered, "It's just like I said, the people who really love you will accept your decisions whatever they are." She kissed his forehead and walked off to the stage.

"Wind the band up Rae! I feel like singing tonight."

The crowd became excited and clapped. It was a rare event for Brandywine to perform herself. Soon she had the entire room singing with her. Lestrade still sat with his mouth wide open taking it all in. Sherlock and Mary sat head to head thick as thieves probably arguing over baby names. John sat shocked and teary-eyed as Harry bashed him on the back calling him "The luckiest damn bastard that was ever born" for having two such hot and talented people willing to change custom and the world just to please him.

Harry poured John a glass of wine and filled her own glass, then she lifted it in a toast. "To family." She said. John looked around the table smiling at everyone gathered here: Lestrade, and Mary, and Sherlock, and Harry. All of them he cared about. All of them cared about him. John realized that at this moment he was truly happy. "To family." he said and clinked his glass with hers.


End file.
